


To Heal is to Forgive Oneself

by Lachesissora



Series: DMC Week 2020 [2]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst, DMC Week 2020, Family Feels, Forgiveness, Gen, Guilt, alcohol-induced hallucination, angst with happy ending, survivor's guilt syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:28:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26891437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lachesissora/pseuds/Lachesissora
Summary: Being the only one who survived the tragedy that ripped his family away, Dante spent most of his years growing up with guilt holding its reign on his heart. He never expected forgiveness... well how could he when the person he wronged was no longer on this earth.Until that day happened.For DMC Week, Day 5: Hurt / Heal
Relationships: Dante & Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Series: DMC Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959541
Comments: 12
Kudos: 68





	To Heal is to Forgive Oneself

**Author's Note:**

> \- Inspired from Chapter 25 of Vision of V manga  
> \- Basically, I assume that Dante might have fallen into survivor's guilt syndrome after the tragedy and blamed himself for the fate that fell Vergil.

All Dante wanted to do was to play with his brother.

He picked up their training sword that morning, dragging them to where his brother, Vergil, was located. His brother had promised him he would play today… well sort of. Technically, Vergil didn’t say anything yesterday when Dante had asked him about that, but come on, silence is a sign of agreement! Well, maybe? But usually Vergil would always play with him in the end, even though he didn’t say anything the day before.

So, it’s not wrong for Dante to assume that Vergil’s silence meant that he agreed, right?

_But turned out, it wasn’t._

It didn’t occur much to Dante because no matter how many times Vergil denied it, Vergil would make his time to play with him. Yeah he would, even though the sun was almost set, even though the first drop of rain hit them, at the end of the day, Vergil would pick up his sword and play with Dante until their mother called out for them to stop and get ready for dinner.

But not on _that day._

Vergil ran to the park a while ago and still hadn’t returned, leaving Dante alone to his punishment: weeding the grass at his mother’s garden. Odd, his brother surely took his time sulking over the fact that Dante had disturbed his reading time. Verge made such a scene for not being able to read. But look, he forgot to bring his book along with him!

Geez, what took him so long? Dante mused as he bit the inside of his cheek while weeding the grass, unaware that a few distance away, a smoke rose to the sky. If Vergil wanted to skip his punishment so much then fine! He would deal with Mama’s wrath later. But that didn’t mean Dante wouldn’t wait for his brother to come back. Oh yes, Dante couldn’t wait for that. First, he would tease the hell out of his beloved brother for not doing his share of weeding. Then, he would make sure that Vergil fulfilled his promise, because he knew Vergil would.

Regardless of everything, at the end of the day, they would exhaust each other with their game.

Except this time around, they didn’t.

* * *

Dante missed his mother so much. He missed her smile, her voice, her laugh, her warmth, and most of all, he missed the way his mother would kiss him good night on his forehead and read him and his brother a bedtime story.

But that was all in the past.

He would never have that again.

_Mama is dead._

He could still hear her screams from that day, how she desperately searched for Vergil, calling out for him before the sound of the windows crashing down as it shattered to the ground, fires crackling as it licked through anything on their path, the sound of the ceiling falling down reverberating throughout the house. He closed his eyes, clammed his hands to his ears, and scooted further inside the closet. His mother’s agonizing scream pierced through the thick burning air and Dante never felt so helpless and so _weak_.

And when the screams stopped, the sound of scratching and hissing slowly dissipated, silence fell and engulfed everything, leaving Dante all alone with nothing but his tears.

It had been days ever since the fire consumed his home. Dante had been wandering all alone with nothing but his sword and his mother’s half of amulet. He had no destination in mind; he walked alone in the street, in between the alleys. He had no money to eat, no spare clothes to change, but he kept on going. He had to keep on living as it was what his mother had made him promise to do.

Mama… Vergil…

 _Vergil_...

A pang of guilt hit him as he remembered the little scuffle they had earlier that day. How that little fight was the last memory he had of his brother. And that memory alone caused his small heart to shatter with guilt and shame. He shouldn’t be too hard on his brother, should have just given Vergil the space he needed.

If Dante did not do what he did on that day, then maybe Mama and Vergil would still be by his side.

To be honest, Dante didn’t know if his brother had survived the attack or not. He tried to search for Vergil at the park once the fire had died down but to his horror, he saw nothing but a pool of blood and a piece of clothing that he assumed was Vergil’s.

Dante refused to think Vergil was dead. There was no way those hideous creatures had got him. Vergil was smart and fast, and very good at hide-and-seek. He could outrun those demons easily like how he dodged Dante's attack during their sword match!

But the whispers that he had heard from the townspeople, how those creatures from hell seemed to only fixated on a single boy in the park, as if a predator targeting their prey, ignoring the panic screaming of nearby children and their parents, Dante felt his stomach twisting into knots, bile forcing its way out from his stomach to his throat.

The idea that he was the only survivor of that tragedy suffocating him, pulling him down into the abyss. What worse was the realisation that he was the one that _sent_ Vergil there,

To his death.

Dante puked out nothing but acid.

* * *

Dante sat on the floor, cluttered with empty beer bottles and cans. His back was on the wall, knees up to his chest. He was chugging another bottle of beer for the night, probably his fifth? Sixth? Seventh? Damn it, he couldn’t remember. Not like he even cared how much he had consumed. It’s not like he could die from alcohol poisoning. His body was immune to it much to his dismay.

What a curse.

He threw the bottle to the other side of the room and It hit directly into a tower that was made from dozens of pizza boxes, making it collapsed unceremoniously to the floor. Dante tched at that. If it was any other day, he would be devastated that his creation and days of hard work had been destroyed.

But not today.

He looked up to the wall behind his desk, where the Legendary Sword Sparda was hanging.The two twin amulets on the blade shone brightly as if mocking him for the sorry state of his office/home. Not like he gave two shits about that. But that wasn’t the cause of the bitterness that loomed within his heart.

As he stared at the amulet for god knows how long, his heart suddenly felt so constricted as if it was being held in a tight grip by someone’s hand.

_It’s all your fault._

The voice echoes in his mind, and in front of him was his brother, Vergil, wearing that dark blue long-sleeve shirt from that _day_. Vergil’s nose was bloodied from the kick he received from Dante. The blood trickled down to his chin, and dropped to the floor. He raised the wooden sword up to Dante’s neck, just below his chin. If Vergil applied a bit of pressure, the wooden sword would definitely draw some blood. But none of the action fazed Dante as he stared directly into Vergil bright blue eyes, slowly losing its shine as it darkened and turned cold. No sign of that familiar warmth that Dante used to know and adore. Vergil's face was devoid from any emotion but contempt.

_This is all your fault, Dante._

Another voice said and this time Dante saw himself, clutching to his wooden sword. His eyes were red and brimmed with tears but there was no sadness there, only a sharp, cold, accusatory glare.

_You’re the one who caused Vergil to be like that._

_This is all your fault._

_You should have listened to him._

_Why do you like to get on his nerves?_

_If you just let him to read-_

_I just wanted to play-_

_Then he wouldn't have left the house-_

_I didn’t mean-_

_He would have stayed-_

_I only want-_

_Mom didn’t have to find him-_

_Please, i didn’t mean-_

_He didn’t have to be subjugated into THAT-_

_You send Vergil to his death-_

_NO-_

_You killed Vergil-_

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

The empty bottle shattered on the wall. His heart was thundering behind his ribs as he tried to fill his lungs with air. The younger version of him was nowhere to be seen. Even the blood stains on the floor seemed to be gone too. The office was empty and quiet, minus for his strained laugh.

Great. He was seeing things now. The alcohol had finally decided to kick in, huh? And here he was thinking that by drinking all of his sorrow away, he could have had a goodnight, guilt free sleep. But damn it, all Dante got was a massive headache and overwhelming guilt!

Fuck. There’s no way he was going to have a decent sleep tonight.

“For fuck sake, are you done?” He gritted through his teeth as he brought his right hand over his temple. “I know!. You don’t have to fucking remind me that!” Dante spat, his cheeks were wet. “It’s my fault. Of course it is! My fault… my fault…” He trailed off. His arm fell limp to his side.

“Don’t look at me like that, Verge. I know. I don’t deserve to live.”

* * *

“Great, that’s the last of em”

Dante stretched his arms as he watched Vergil slashed through the remains of those demons, before he wiped the blade clean and sheathed her back to her saya, effortlessly. But despite that, Dante could note the tired stance that his brother’s exuded through the way his shoulders were slightly slumped forwards instead of him standing ramrod straight. And the way Vergil inhaled his breath, which was a bit slightly longer and… was he _sighing?_

Dante looked at their surroundings. Most of the demon corpses were slowly disintegrating into dust, leaving the area back to its original state a few minutes ago: Barren and covered with rocks. This was like the hundredth horde they fought for the last few hours or days... or was it weeks? Dante wasn’t really sure. The underworld looked exactly the same, day and night, and time in here worked differently than the human world. It could either go fast, or slow, and if you’re unlucky, it could go _backwards_.

“Hey, Verge.” Dante called. Vergil just hummed in acknowledgment as he stared beyond the horizon. “Wanna take some break before the next horde comes in?”

Vergil was silent for a while before he closed his eyes, breathing in. “Perhaps we should.”

Vergil walked a bit towards an area that was filled with giant crimson rocks. Then, he sat there with his back behind the rock, Yamato on his lap. And the tiredness seemed to seep out of his body as he laid his back and raised his head towards the red sky. “Are you not resting, Dante?”

“Yeah, was about to join ya.” Dante sat a few feet away from Vergil. His gazes still hadn’t left his brother and he knew his brother noticed it too, with the way Vergil just rolled his eyes.

They sat there in silence. Basking in the little peace the underworld had to offer. Dante took a peek at Vergil again, who was still looking beyond the horizon. His brows furrowed in thoughts, as if he was thinking over something. Whatever he was thinking, Dante could only assume it must be something to do with the past.

And that was when it hit him that Vergil probably recounted the time he had lost.

There was a huge gap between Temen-Ni-Gru and the Qliphoth incident. All those lost years have finally caught him in the form of a brash young man. Would it be different, if Dante managed to capture his brother’s hand back then?

No. Dante’s mind went further back, as his brother visage started to look younger, way younger than the last time they saw each other. To the time where Vergil’s eyes still had those delightful sparks and warmth hidden beneath those bright blue eyes, and smiles that were so pure and innocent.

“Vergil...” Dante was not sure where to begin. The guilt of the past, of _that day_ , crawled back into his mind, reminding him of the things he did that led to his brother's misfortune and demise. All these years, he had to live with that guilt and being reminded again and again, through Nelo Angelo and Nero, of the domino effect of his childish, selfish action. And now that Vergil was right in front of him- not broken, nor corrupted; not crumbling to ashes or even purely demonic- whole in his prime state, that Dante felt the urge to tell him, or else this moment would be gone and Vergil would slip away from him, _again._

“If you have something to say then make it quick.” Vergil glared at Dante, annoyed that his rest was disturbed.

“Sorry. I have something on my mind…” Dante trailed off. His smile didn’t reach his ears, a sign that Vergil knew that there was something bugging him, especially when Dante didn’t reply with his usual quip. So Vergil kept quiet, and waited for Dante to sort out his thoughts. “I… I shouldn’t have done that to you back then, Verge”

“Did what?”

“Steal your book?” Dante shrugged.

“What are you getting at?” Vergil brows furrowed in confusion.

“I mean… if I didn’t do that, you would probably have stayed at home when it all happened. We would be both hiding inside the closet and Mother didn’t have to go out to find you. She might as well survive the attack…” There, he said it! Dante glanced up, trying to make up Vergil’s stoic expression. His pupils were shaken for a bit before he closed his eyes, and looked the other way.

“Dante. None of us could have predicted that to happen. We were only kids.” Vergil said after a moment of silence. His tone had lost its rough edges as Vergil sounded a bit defeated.

“I know, but- Ever since that day, I can't stop blaming myself with whatever shit that has happened to you. I- I should have not provoked you that day. I should have just leave you alone with your stupid book… and you didn’t have to go to that stupid park…” Dante brought his hand over his temple, taking his breath for his suffocating lungs..

“Yes, you should just leave me be.” Vergil attempted to joke which Dante replied with a strain chuckle. “But as I mentioned earlier: We were just kids, Dante. We can’t predict the future. It was... bound to happen. And no amount of ‘what ifs’ can change that.”

“Yeah… I’m just-.”

“Do not blame yourself over my own foolishness, Dante.” Vergil cut him off before Dante could finish his sentence. “As much as I hate to admit it, you’re not to be blamed, nor did Mother. I was foolish enough to dwelled on the assumptions that Mother favoured you more than me, and let it consume me, corrupting me. I made my own decision to fall into hell, for my own selfish pursuit. The consequences of my foolish attempt for power was only for me to bear. Not you. You did not have to blame yourself further, little brother.”

“I killed you, Verge.”

“You’ve freed me from Mundus.”

“At what cost? Losing you again?!” His breaths were ragged, anger boiled within and he didn’t know who it was directed to; Vergil or himself? “I couldn’t bring myself to even look at Nero or even acknowledge our relation. If I had took your hand and dragged your asses back from that shithole, you won’t be his puppet- Hell, if I didn’t be such a bitch back then-

“That’s enough, Dante!” Vergil's loud shout snapped Dante out of his spiralling thoughts. “There’s no point in thinking about the past. Aren’t you the one who constantly tells me to keep moving forward? Then why are you not heeding your words, little brother?”

Dante breathed in, his heart felt as if it was about to explode. All of those repressive feelings that he kept wrapped underneath his heart, threatened to burst out right this instant. He couldn’t even believe that Vergil would throw back his own words at him. Guess, it was not just Vergil with the lack of a brain cell. He was too.

“You told me to embrace the present, to catch things up with what I have lost. And I’m going to give it a go; starting with you and then Nero. We’ve discussed this and I, for once, accepted your offer.” Earlier after they had destroyed the Qliphoth roots, the two brothers managed to have some sort of a conversation. Mostly about Nero and the world that they left behind. It started with them counting out their trophy as they refused to talk normally without a fight. And as time went by, and the fighting had gone stale, did they manage to sit down and speak out their hearts. Even though there were some details that Vergil had kept hidden, the twins managed to sort things out like normal siblings would. “So tell me, little brother, why are you still dwelling in the past? If you are trying to tell me that you feel guilty for whatever happened to me, then don’t. You’re not at fault for that, and don’t make me repeat myself again!”

Vergil stood up as he marched forward, Yamato in his hand. He stopped a few paces away and glanced slightly to the back towards Dante, who was sitting as if he was sulking for being reprimanded by their mother. “Come on, Dante.”

“Where are we going?” Dante's voice broke a bit but Vergil pretended he didn’t hear that.

“Home.” He pointed Yamato towards the horizon. “Over there, the veil between the underworld and the human world is thin. We can find an opening there, and Yamato will be able to portal us out.”

“Sweet.” Dante responded with a cheerful tune as he stood up, hiding the guilt that he felt earlier on. He had to admit, it was rather hypocritical of him to go preaching about moving on to his brother when he himself was unable to let go of his guilt. He strutted forward and stopped right next to Vergil. “Lead the way.”

Vergil watched his brother quietly, observing the lines between his eyes, and the darkness underneath it. Dante looked older than before, tired at the same time and his smile didn’t reach his ears. “Dante,” He raised his free hand and carefully laid it on Dante’s shoulder. It was an awkward gesture and Vergil couldn’t recall when was the last time he did this to a person. He was trying and Dante knew that. “I’ve been away far too long.”

“You sure did. Taking your sweet time like the drama queen you are.” Dante smirked, a genuine one.

“Perhaps, I am.” He replied, mirroring his brother’s expression. He gripped Dante’s shoulder, which gave Dante some form of assurance. And the tiredness from Dante’s feature slowly oozes out.

“I can’t believe all I have to do was to throw a tantrum in order to make you speak something more than just 5 words.”

“Are you asking for a death wish, little brother?” Vergil frowned at that.

“No. But, not gonna lie, even if it sounds creepy, I like how you talk all wise like.”

“Keep doing that and I will skewer you and feed you to the demons.”

“You said that, but I know you won't do it.”

“Try me.” Dante laughed at Vergil’s empty threat. A sight that brought Vergil’s lips to curve upward.

“Thank you, Vergil.” He finally said once his laughter had died down. Relief washed all over him as the guilt finally released its hold on his heart after all these years. It felt liberating. Something that his past self couldn’t ever imagine that he could even forgive himself.

“Make haste, Dante. Or I leave you here rotting alone.” Vergil stepped forward, leaving Dante behind. Dante watched his brother for a moment. It’s real. Vergil was alive and real.

He finally got his brother back.

“Alright, brother. I’m coming.”

As he chased over Vergil, Dante couldn’t help but to remember the simpler times when they were kids, of him tailing his brother wherever he went, practice swords in his arms.

Just like old times.


End file.
